


The Monster At The End Of This Book (4.18)

by ackles_ass_equation



Series: Superghetto [78]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Acting in Unison, Alcohol, Aliases, Apocalypse, Archangels, Dean Girls, Dean's Amulet, Demon Blood, Demonology, Fictional Locations, Grenade Launcher, Hex Bag, Impala, Led Zeppelin - Freeform, Mary Sue, Sam Girls, Television Without Pity, Wincest (mentioned), Winchester Gospels, angel lore, dark side, meta episodes, prophet - Freeform, the Supernatural books
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 17:46:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8762827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ackles_ass_equation/pseuds/ackles_ass_equation
Summary: Sam n' Dean come across a seriez of novels called Supernatural depictin they lives as demon huntas up in detail. Da brothers hook up tha lyricist of tha novels, Chuck, whoz ass explains dat schmoooove muthafucka has visionz of Sam n' Dean up in action then puts they adventures up in his novels.





	1. Now

INT. CHUCK’S HOME- NIGHT  
  
CHUCK is sprawled on a cold-ass lil couch chillin wit papers clutched ta his chest; tha fruity-ass malt liquor table is littered wit unfinished chicken n' drinks yo. Dude is up in tha throez of a intense dream: we peep quick flashez of SAM n' DEAN, tha IMPALA, n' CHUCK his dirty ass. Cut to:  
  
INT. COMIC BOOK SHOP- DAY  
  
A playa takes a cold-ass lil comic book off tha shelf as we pan across ta tha door, where DEAN n' SAM is entering. They is up in suits n' long black coats: STD costumes. Da playa behind tha counta looks up as they approach n' take up they badges.   
  
**MAN BEHIND COUNTER**  
Uh... can I help yo slick ass?  
  
**DEAN**  
Sure hope so fo' realz. Agents DeYoung n' Shaw. Just need ta ask you all dem thangs.  
  
**SAM**  
Notice anythang strange up in tha building, last couple days?  
**  
MAN BEHIND COUNTER**  
Like what?  
  
**DEAN**  
Well, some other tenants reported flickerin lights.  
  
**MAN BEHIND COUNTER**  
Uh, I don't be thinkin so. Why?  
  
**SAM**  
What bout noises, biatch? Any skitterin up in tha walls, biatch? Kind of like rats?  
  
**MAN BEHIND COUNTER**  
(skeptical)  
And tha STD is investigatin a rodent problem?  
  
**SAM**  
What bout cold spots, biatch? Feel any sudden drops up in temperature?  
**  
MAN BEHIND COUNTER  
** (grinning)  
I knew dat shiznit son! Yo ass muthafuckas is LARPing, aren't yo slick ass?  
  
**DEAN**  
Excuse me son?  
**  
MAN BEHIND COUNTER**  
Yo ass is fans.  
  
**SAM**  
Fanz of what?  
  
**DEAN**  
What tha fuck iz "LARPing"?  
**  
MAN BEHIND COUNTER**    
Like you don't give a gangbangin' fuck.   
(off they trippin looks)  
Live-Action Role-Play dawwwwg! And pretty hardcore, like a muthafucka.  
  
**DEAN**  
I be sorry, I have no clue what tha fuck you poppin' off about.  
**  
MAN BEHIND COUNTER  
** Yo ass be askin thangs like tha buildingz hustled. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time. Like dem muthafuckas from tha books. What is they called, biatch? Uh... "Supernatural." Two muthafuckas, use fake IDs wit rock aliases, hunt down pimps, demons, vampires. What is they names, biatch? Uh... Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Steve n' Dirk, biatch? Uh, Sal n' Dane?  
  
**SAM**  
Sam n' Dean?  
  
**MAN BEHIND COUNTER**  
Thatz dat shiznit son!  
**  
DEAN  
** Yo ass is sayin dis be a funky-ass book?  
  
**MAN BEHIND COUNTER**    
Books. Dat shiznit was a series. Put ya muthafuckin choppers up if ya feel dis! Didn't push a shitload of copies, though cause I gots dem finger-lickin' chickens wit tha siz-auce. Kind of had mo' of a underground cult following.   
(he goes over ta a table labeled “Bargain Bin”. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SAM n' DEAN follow.)  
Letz see. Um.. fo' realz. Ah. Yeah  
(handz DEAN a funky-ass book)  
Thatz tha straight-up original gangsta one, I think.  
  
**DEAN**  
(readin tha cover of tha book)  
"Supernatural" by Carver Edlund.  
(he flips tha book over, readz tha back cover)  
"Along a lonely California highway, a mysterious biatch up in white lures pimps ta they dirtnaps."  
  
**SAM**  
(grabbin tha book)  
Give me all dis bullshit.  
(to tha MAN)  
We gonna need all tha copiez of "Supernatural" you've got.

An altered title sequence bigs up, wit illustrations from tha book dat include Romance-novel-style illustrationz of SAM, DEAN, n' other charactas n' endin wit tha title card:   
**_SUPERNATURAL  
By Carver Edlund_**

 


	2. Act One

INT. MOTEL ROOM- NIGHT  
  
We pan across a motel bed strewn wit copiez of tha book series. Put ya muthafuckin choppers up if ya feel dis! Da episode title appears:  
  
"THE MONSTER AT THE END OF THIS BOOK"  
  
DEAN is reclinin on tha bed, flippin all up in a funky-ass book n' frowning. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SAM is seated by tha window wit his fuckin laptop.  
  
**DEAN**  
This is freakin' insane yo. Howz dis muthafucka know all dis stuff?  
  
**SAM**  
Yo ass gots mah dirty ass.   
  
**DEAN**  
Everythang is up in here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. I mean every last muthafuckin thang. From tha racist truck ta- ta me bustin a nut. I be full-frontal up in here, dude.   
(he gets up n' crosses ta SAM)  
How tha fuck come we aint heard of dem before?  
  
**SAM**  
They're pretty obscure. I mean, almost zero circulation. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Uh, started up in '05. Da publisher put up a cold-ass lil couple dozen before goin bankrupt fo' realz. And, uh, tha last one- "No Rest For Da Wicked"-  
(he turns tha laptop towardz DEAN, displayin a wizzy joint listin tha books)  
Endz wit you goin ta hell.  
  
DEAN  
I reiterate. Freakin insane.  
(browsin tha site)  
Peep it out. There’s straight-up fans. There’s not nuff of dem yo, but still. Did yo dirty ass read this?  
  
**SAM**  
Yeah.  
  
DEAN  
Although fo' fans, they shizzle do diss all muthafuckin day. It make me wanna hollar playa! Listen ta dis- Simpatico say "the demon rap line is trite, clichéd, n' overall craptastic." Yeah, well, screw you, Simpatico. We lived dat shit.  
  
**SAM**  
Yeah. Well, keep on reading. Well shiiiit, it gets mo' betta n' shit.   
  
**DEAN**  
There is "Sam girls" n' "Dean girls" n'- whatz a "slash fan"?  
  
**SAM**  
As in... Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sam-slash-Dean. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Together.  
  
**DEAN**  
Like, together together?  
  
**SAM**  
Yeah.  
  
**DEAN**  
They do know we brothers, right?  
  
**SAM**  
Doesn't seem ta matter.  
  
**DEAN**  
Oh, come on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. That... Thatz just sick.   
(he shuts tha laptop up in disgust)  
We gots ta find dis Carver Edlund.  
  
**SAM**  
Yeah, dat might not be all kindsa easy as fuck .  
  
**DEAN**  
Why not?  
  
**SAM**  
No tax records, no known address. Looks like "Carver Edlund” be a pen name.  
  
**DEAN**  
Somebody’s gotta know whoz ass he is.  
  
INT. PUBLISHER’S HOUSE- DAY  
  
SAM n' DEAN is meetin wit tha publisher of tha “Supernatural” series: a young, bangin biatch up in a long-ass sweater n' shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch is eager but appears both a lil straight-up trippin n' somewhat skeptical of they intentions.  
  
**SAM**  
So you published tha "Supernatural" books?  
  
**PUBLISHER**  
Yep. Yeah. Gosh. These books... Yo ass know, they never straight-up gots tha attention they deserved. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! All anybody wants ta read no mo' is dat romizzle crap. Yo ass know- "Doctor Sexy, M.D."?  
(scoffs)  
Please.  
  
**SAM**  
Right. Well, our crazy asses hopin dat our article can... shine a light on a underappreciated series.  
  
**PUBLISHER**  
Yeah, yeah, cuz, you know, if we gots a lil bit of phat press then m-maybe we could start publishin again.  
  
**DEAN**  
Fuck dat shit, no, no, no. God, no. I mean, why- why would you wanna do that, biatch? Yo ass know, it's, uh, such a cold-ass lil complete series, what tha fuck wit Dean goin ta hell n' all.  
  
**PUBLISHER**  
(gettin straight-up wack)  
Oh, mah god hommie! That was one of mah straight-up ones, cuz Dean was so... strong... n' fucked up n' brave fo' realz. And Sam... I mean, tha dopest parts is when they'd cry like a muthafucka. Yo ass know, like up in- In "Heart," when Sam had ta bust a cap up in Madison, tha straight-up original gangsta biatch since Jizzica he straight-up loved. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! And up in "Home," when Dean had ta booty-call Jizzy n' ask his ass fo' help.  
(she turns away)  
Gosh... if only real pimps was so open n' up in bust a nut on wit they vibe.  
  
**DEAN**  
Real men?  
  
**PUBLISHER**  
I mean, no offense yo. How tha fuck often do you cry like that, hmm?  
  
**DEAN**  
Well, up in dis biatch, I be bustin up like a biatch on tha inside.  
  
**PUBLISHER**  
Is dat supposed ta be funky?  
  
**DEAN**  
Lady, dis whole thang is funky.  
  
**PUBLISHER**  
How tha fuck do I know you two is legit, hmm?  
  
**DEAN**  
Oh, trust mah dirty ass. We, uh... our slick asses legit.  
  
**PUBLISHER**  
Well, I don't want any smart-ass article makin funk of mah thugs.  
  
**SAM**  
No! Fuck dat shit, no, no. Never n' shit. (stammering)  
  
**DEAN**  
Fuck dat shit, that's...  
  
**SAM**  
We- We is actually, um... big-ass fans.  
  
**PUBLISHER**  
Hmm. You've read tha books?  
  
**DEAN**  
Cover ta cover.  
  
**SAM**  
Um-hmm.  
  
**PUBLISHER**  
Whatz tha year n' model of tha car?  
  
**DEAN**  
It’s a 1967 Chevy Impala.  
  
**PUBLISHER**  
Whatz May 2nd?  
  
**SAM**  
Thatz mah- Uh... thatz Samz birthday.  
  
**DEAN**  
January 24th is Dean's.  
  
**PUBLISHER**  
Samz score on tha LSAT?  
  
**SAM**  
One...  
(lookin at DEAN, at a loss)  
Seventy-four?  
  
**PUBLISHER**  
Deanz straight-up song?  
  
**DEAN**  
It aint nuthin but a tie. Between Zepz "Ramble On" n' "Travelin Riverside Blues."  
  
**PUBLISHER**  
Okay. Okay. What do you wanna know?  
  
**SAM**  
What’s Carver Edlundz real name?  
  
**PUBLISHER**  
Oh, no. I- No. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sorry, I can’t do dis shit.   
  
**SAM**  
Us playas just wanna rap ta his muthafuckin ass. Yo ass know, git tha "Supernatural" rap up in his own lyrics.  
  
**PUBLISHER**  
He’s straight-up private. It’s like Salinger.  
  
**SAM**  
Please. Like I holla'd- we are, um...  
(he unbuttons his shirt, cringin a lil, ta reveal his fuckin lil' demon-protection tattoo)  
... big... big-ass fans.  
  
Off SAM’s pointed look, DEAN rolls his wild lil' fuckin eyes n' displays his own tattoo. Da biatch licks her lips.  
  
**PUBLISHER  
** Awesome. Yo ass know what, biatch?   
(she turns round n' hikes up her skirt, showin dem suttin' off-camera.  
I gots one, like a muthafucka.  
  
**DEAN**  
Whoa. Yo ass be a gangbangin' fan.  
  
**PUBLISHER**  
Okay.  
(she scribblez suttin' on a pad of paper)  
His namez Chuck Shurley fo' realz. And he a smart-ass , so don't piss his ass off.  
  
INT. CHUCK’S HOME- DAY  
  
We begin on a cold-ass lil close blasted of a printer, which is spittin up nuff muthafuckin pages. CHUCK comes tha fuck into view bustin boxers, a undershirt, n' a funky-ass bathrobe, n' stuffin tha end of a slice of pizzy up in his crazy-ass grill yo. Dude sits all up in tha desk, pulls tha pages from tha printer, n' clears his cold-ass throat.  
  
**CHUCK**  
(reading)  
"Sam n' Dean approached tha run-down..."  
(sighs, cook up a cold-ass lil erection on tha page)  
"...approached tha ramshackle doggy den wit trepidation."  
  
EXT. CHUCK’S HOME- DAY  
  
DEAN n' SAM git outta tha IMPALA.  
  
**CHUCK (v.o.)**  
"Did they straight-up wanna learn tha secrets dat lay beyond dat door?"  
  
SAM n' DEAN stop up in front of tha door, share a look, n' shrug.  
  
**CHUCK (v.o.)**  
"Sam n' Dean traded soulful looks."  
  
INT. CHUCK’S HOME- DAY  
  
**CHUCK (continuing)  
** "Then, wit determination, Dean pushed tha doorbell wit forceful... determination."  
(tosses tha pages down up in frustration)  
Ugh!  
  
(Da doorbell rings yo. Dude looks up, nervous, then goes ta answer it)  
  
**DEAN**  
Yo ass Chuck Shurley?  
  
**SAM**  
Da Chuck Shurley whoz ass freestyled tha "Supernatural" books, biatch?   
  
**CHUCK**  
Maybe. Why?  
  
**DEAN**  
I be Dean. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. This is Sam. Da Dean n' Sam you've been freestylin about.  
  
(CHUCK closes tha door. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. DEAN rings tha bell again n' again n' again n' CHUCK opens tha door.)   
  
**CHUCK**  
Look, uh... I appreciate yo' enthusiasm. Really, I do. It's, uh, itz always sick ta hear from tha fans. But, uh, fo' yo' own good, I straight fuckin suggest you git a game.  
(he tries ta shut tha door yo, but DEAN puts up a hand ta stop dat shit.)  
  
**DEAN**  
See, herez tha thang. Our thugged-out asses gotz a game. You've been rockin it ta write yo' books.  
  
(Dude shoves tha door open n' enters, forcin CHUCK ta back up tha fuck into tha house.)  
  
**CHUCK**  
Now, wait a minute. Now, dis aint funky.  
  
**DEAN**  
Damn straight, it aint funky.  
  
**SAM**  
Look, our laid-back asses just wanna know how tha fuck you bustin dat shit.  
  
**CHUCK**  
I aint bustin anything.  
  
**DEAN**  
Is you a hunter?  
  
**CHUCK**  
What, biatch? No. I be a writer.  
  
**DEAN**  
Then how tha fuck do you know so much bout demons, biatch?   
(he advances on CHUCK, whoz ass falls onto tha couch)   
And Tulpas, n' chizzlelings?  
  
**CHUCK**  
Is dis some kind of "Misery" thang, biatch? Ah, it is, aint it, biatch? It aint nuthin but a "Misery" thang!  
  
**DEAN**  
Fuck dat shit, it aint a "Misery" thang. Believe me, we aint fans!  
  
**CHUCK**  
Well, then, what tha fuck do you want?!  
  
**SAM**  
I be Sam fo' realz. And thatz Dean.  
  
**CHUCK**  
Sam n' Dean is fictionizzle characters. I made dem up! They're not real!  
  
EXT. CHUCK’S HOME- DAY  
  
DEAN opens tha trunk of tha IMPALA, displayin tha arsenal. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. We pan up ta CHUCK’s shocked face.  
  
**CHUCK**  
Is dem real guns?  
  
**DEAN**  
Yup. This is real rock salt, these is real fake IDs.  
  
**CHUCK**  
Well, I gots ta hand it ta you muthafuckas. Yo ass straight-up is mah number one fans.  
(still straight-up nervous)  
That’s, that’s phat. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So, I-I be thinkin I've gots some postas up in tha house.  
  
**DEAN**  
Chuck, stop.  
  
**CHUCK**  
Please. Wait. Please, don't hurt mah dirty ass.  
  
**SAM**  
How tha fuck much do you know, biatch? Do you know bout tha angels, biatch? Or Lilith breakin tha seals?  
  
**CHUCK**  
Wait a minute yo. How tha fuck do you know bout that?  
  
**DEAN**  
Da question is how tha fuck do you, biatch.  
  
**CHUCK**  
Because I freestyled it?  
  
**SAM**  
Yo ass kept writing?  
  
**CHUCK**  
Yeah, even afta tha publisher went bankrupt yo, but dem books never came out. Okay, wait a minute. This is some kind of joke, right, biatch? Did dat- Did Phil put you up ta this?  
  
**DEAN**  
Well, sick ta hook up you, biatch. I be Dean Winchester, n' dis is mah brother, Sam.  
  
**CHUCK**  
Da last names was never up in tha books. I never holla'd at anybody bout dis shit. I never even freestyled dat down.  
  
INT. CHUCK’S HOUSE- DAY  
  
CHUCK pours his dirty ass a big-ass whisky n' gulps it down, then sets tha glass on tha kitchen sink yo. Dude turns around, sees SAM n' DEAN, n' groans.  
  
**CHUCK**  
Oh! Oh, you still there.  
  
**DEAN**  
Yup.  
  
**CHUCK**  
Yo ass aint a hallucination.  
  
**DEAN**  
Nope.  
  
**CHUCK**  
Well, there be a only one explanation. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Obviously I be a god.  
  
**SAM**  
Yo ass aint a god.  
  
**CHUCK**  
How tha fuck else do you explain it, biatch? I write thangs n' then they come ta game. Yeah, no, I be definitely a god. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! A wack, wack, capricious god. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da thangs I put you all up in- Da physical whoopins ridin' solo.  
  
**DEAN**  
Yeah, we still up in one piece.  
  
**CHUCK**  
I capped yo' daddy n' shit. I burned yo' mutha kickin it fo' realz. And then you had ta go all up in tha whole freaky freaky deal again n' again n' again wit Jessica.  
  
**SAM**  
Chuck...  
  
**CHUCK**  
All fo' what, biatch? All fo' tha sake of literary symmetry. I toyed wit yo' lives, yo' emotions, for... entertainment.  
  
**DEAN**  
Yo ass didn't toy wit us, Chuck, aiiight, biatch? Yo ass didn't create us.  
  
**CHUCK**  
Did yo dirty ass straight-up gotta live all up in tha bugs?  
  
**DEAN**  
Yeah.  
  
**CHUCK**  
What bout tha ghost ship?  
  
**DEAN**  
Yes, dat like a muthafucka.  
  
**CHUCK**  
I be so sorry bout dat bullshit. I mean, horror is one thang yo, but ta be forced ta live shitty writing... if I would have known dat shiznit was real, I would have done another pass.  
  
**DEAN**  
Chuck, you not a god dawwwg!  
  
**SAM**  
We be thinkin you probably just psycho.  
  
**CHUCK**  
No. If I was psycho, you be thinkin I'd be writing, biatch? Freestylin is hard.  
  
**SAM**  
It seems dat somehow, you just... focused on our lives.  
  
**DEAN**  
Yeah, like laser-focused. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Is you hustlin on anythang right now?  
  
**CHUCK**  
(realizin something)  
Holy crap.  
  
**SAM**  
What?  
  
**CHUCK**  
(picks up tha pages da thug was readin earlier)  
The, uh, sickest fuckin book, biatch? It's, uh, itz kind of weird.  
  
**SAM**  
"Weird" how?  
  
**CHUCK**  
It aint nuthin but straight-up Vonnegut.  
  
**DEAN**  
(intently)  
"Slaughterhouse-Five" Vonnegut or "Catz Cradle" Vonnegut?  
  
**SAM**  
(surprised)  
What?  
  
**DEAN**  
(defensively)  
What?  
  
**CHUCK**  
It's, uh, "Kilgore Trout" Vonnegut. I freestyled mah dirty ass tha fuck into dat shit. I freestyled mah dirty ass, at mah house... confronted by mah characters.  
  
INT. LAUNDROMAT- NIGHT  
  
SAM is bustin laundry as DEAN sits nearby, readin CHUCK’s sickest fuckin manuscript.  
  
**DEAN**  
I’m chillin up in a laundromat, readin bout mah dirty ass chillin up in a laundromat readin bout mah dirty ass. My fuckin head hurts.  
  
**SAM**  
Therez gots ta be suttin' dis muthafuckaz not spittin some lyrics ta us.  
  
(SAM turns ta toss his fuckin lil' darks tha fuck into tha machine. DEAN continues reading.)  
  
**DEAN**  
"Sam tossed his wild lil' freakadelic gigantic darks tha fuck into tha machine yo. Dude was startin ta have doubts bout Chuck, bout whether da thug was spittin some lyrics ta tha whole truth.”  
  
**SAM**  
Quit dat shit.  
  
**DEAN**  
"'Quit it,' Sam holla'd." Guess what tha fuck you do next.  
(SAM turns away, scowling.)  
"Sam turned his back on Dean, his wild lil' grill broodin n' pensive." I mean, I don't give a fuck how tha fuck da ruffneck bustin it yo, but dis muthafucka is bustin dat shit. I can't peep yo' grill yo, but dem is definitely yo' "broodin n' pensive" shoulders.  
(SAM sighs, exasperated. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time. DEAN looks down all up in tha manuscript.)  
Yo ass just thought I was a gangbangin' finger-lickin' dick.  
  
**SAM**  
(turns round lookin impressed.)  
Da muthafuckaz good.  
  
INT. CHUCK’S HOUSE- NIGHT  
  
CHUCK is dozin at his fuckin lil' desk, havin another intense dream. We peep flashez of SAM up in a motel room wit a funky-ass dope lil' blonde biatch. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch sits n' pats tha bed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! SAM approaches slowly, lookin entranced. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Her eyes turn [white](http://www.supernaturalwiki.com/index.php?title=Lilith). Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch draws SAM ta her on tha bed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! CHUCK wakes up, panicked.  
  



	3. Act Two

INT. CHUCK’S HOUSE- DAY  
  
SAM n' DEAN is back, n' CHUCK paces nervously, as if buildin up tha courage ta drop a rhyme yo. Dude holdz mo' pages up in his hands.  
  
**SAM**  
So... Yo ass freestyled another chapter?  
  
**CHUCK**  
This was all so much easier before you was real.  
  
**DEAN**  
We can take it; just spit it out.  
  
**CHUCK**  
Yo ass especially aint gonna like all dis bullshit.  
  
**DEAN**  
I didn't like hell.  
  
**CHUCK**  
It aint nuthin but Lilith. Dat hoe comin fo' Sam.  
  
**DEAN**  
Comin ta bust a cap up in him?  
  
**SAM**  
When?  
  
**CHUCK**  
Tonight.  
  
**DEAN**  
Dat hoe just gonna show up, biatch? Here?  
  
**CHUCK**  
(sits, puts his wild lil' freakadelic glasses on)  
Uh... let’s see, uh,  
(readin from tha manuscript)  
"Lilith patted tha bed seductively. Unable ta deny his fuckin lil' desire, Sam succumbed, n' they sank tha fuck into tha throez of fiery demonic passion."  
  
**SAM**  
(laughs)  
Yo ass is kiddin me, right?  
  
**DEAN**  
Yo ass be thinkin dis is funky?  
  
**SAM**  
Yo ass don't, biatch? I mean, come on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "Fiery demonic passion"?  
  
**CHUCK**  
It aint nuthin but just a gangbangin' first draft.  
  
**DEAN**  
Wait, wait, wait, wait. Lilith be a lil girl.  
  
**CHUCK**  
Fuck dat shit, uh, dis time she a "comely dental hygienist from Bloomington, Indiana."  
  
**DEAN**  
Great. Perfect. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So what tha fuck happens afta the... "fiery demonic" whatever?  
  
**CHUCK**  
I don't give a fuck, it aint come ta me yet.  
  
**SAM**  
Dean, look, there be a not a god damn thang ta worry about. Lilith n' mah crazy ass son, biatch? In bed?  
  
**DEAN**  
(glarin at SAM but bustin lyrics ta CHUCK)  
How tha fuck do dis whole psycho thang of yours work?  
  
**CHUCK**  
Yo ass mean mah process?  
  
**DEAN**  
Yes, yo' "process."  
  
**CHUCK**  
Well, it probably starts wit a headache fo' realz. A straight-up shitty headache fo' realz. Aspirin is useless, so... I drink. Until I fall asleep. Da last time it happened, I thought dat shiznit was just a wild-ass dream.  
  
**DEAN**  
Da last time you dreamt bout us?  
  
**CHUCK**  
It flowed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Well shiiiit, it just, it kept flowing. Well shiiiit, it still do. I-I can't stop it, straight-up.  
  
**SAM**  
Yo ass can't seriously believe-  
  
**DEAN**  
Humor mah dirty ass.  
  
**DEAN**  
(Dude stands; CHUCK holdz up tha manuscript fo' his muthafuckin ass.)  
Look, why don't we, our laid-back asses just...  
(he takes tha manuscript)  
Take a peep these n' peep whatz what.  
(to CHUCK)  
Yo ass-  
  
**CHUCK**  
...knew you was gonna ask fo' dis shit. Yeah.  
  
EXT. ROAD- DAY  
  
DEAN is driving. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SAM sits beside his ass readin tha sickest fuckin chapter.  
  
**SAM**  
Dean, come on.  
(reading)  
"Da minivan accident wasn't dat bad yo, but Dean was still seein stars yo. Dude scratched absently all up in tha pink flower Band-Aidz on his wild lil' face."  
  
**DEAN**  
So?  
  
**SAM**  
So, I've peeped you gushin blood. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg! You'd use duct tape n' bar rags before you'd put on a pink flower Band-Aid.  
  
**DEAN**  
Whatz yo' point?  
  
**SAM**  
My fuckin point is dis- all of dis- is straight-up implausible, itz nuts.  
  
**DEAN**  
Dat punk been right bout every last muthafuckin thang so far. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Yo ass be thinkin he just gonna ground up at first now?  
  
**SAM**  
(scoffs, continues reading)  
Huh. "Dean slid behind tha wheel of his beloved Impala n' drove off, tha plastic tarp on tha rear window flappin like tha wingz of a cold-ass lil crow."  
  
**DEAN**  
A tarp?  
  
**SAM**  
Yeah. On tha rear window fo' realz. And you drive it like all dis bullshit.  
  
**DEAN**  
Well, he might be wack bout tha details yo, but don't mean da thug wack bout tha end result.  
  
**SAM**  
So we’re just gonna run?  
  
**DEAN**  
Dude, we is a long-ass way from locked n loaded fo' a gangbangin' face-to-face dirtnap match wit Lilith.  
  
They come ta a roadblock n' come ta a stop fo' realz. A deputy leans over ta rap ta DEAN.  
  
**DEAN**  
What seems ta be tha problem?  
  
**DEPUTY**  
Bridge is up ahead.  
  
**DEAN**  
Us playas just tryin ta git outta town.  
  
**DEPUTY**  
Yeah, afraid not.  
  
**DEAN**  
Is there a thugged-out detour?  
  
**DEPUTY**  
Nope.  
  
**DEAN**  
Therez not a side road dat takes our asses ta tha highway?  
  
**DEPUTY**  
To git ta tha highway, you gotta cross dat river n' shit. To cross tha river, you gotta take dat bridge.  
  
**DEAN**  
How tha fuck deepz tha river?  
  
**DEPUTY**  
Sorry fo' realz. Afraid you thugs is gonna gotta spend tha night up in town.  
  
INT. DINER0-NIGHT  
  
DEAN is now readin tha manuscript as SAM looks over a menu.  
  
**DEAN**  
Yo, dis could be a phat thang. I mean, if dis is what tha fuck puts our asses on tha path ta Lilith, then all we gots ta do is git off tha path.  
  
**SAM**  
How tha fuck do you mean?  
  
**DEAN**  
It aint nuthin but a funky-ass blueprint of what tha fuck not ta do. I mean, if tha pages say dat we go left-  
  
**SAM**  
Then we go right.  
  
**DEAN**  
Exactly. We git off-book. We never make it ta tha end yo, but it ain't no stoppin cause I be still poppin'. It aint nuthin but opposite day. It make me wanna hollar playa! Well shiiiit, it say dat we, uh, we git tha fuck into a gangbangin' fight. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So, no fighting. No research fo' you, biatch...  
  
**SAM**  
No bacon cheeseburger fo' you, biatch.  
  
**DEAN**  
(looks slightly put out)  
Yeah, no problem. I be bout ta just order suttin' else.  
(the waitress approaches)  
Yea muthafucka, uh, whatz good?  
  
**WAITRESS**  
Well, if you like burgers, Oprahz hoe holla'd our crazy asses have tha dopest bacon cheeseburgers up in tha ghetto.  
  
(SAM laughs)   
  
**DEAN**  
Really?  
  
**SAM**  
I be bout ta just have tha cobb salad, please.  
  
**DEAN**  
I be bout ta have the... veggie tofu burger n' shit. Thanks.  
  
(Bitch takes they menus n' leaves.)  
  
**SAM**  
This whole thangz ridiculous.  
  
**DEAN**  
Lilith is ridiculous?  
  
**SAM**  
Da scam of me hookin up wit her is.  
  
**DEAN**  
Right. 'Cause suttin' like dat can never happen.  
  
**SAM**  
(starts ta scowl, then controls his dirty ass.)  
Dean, fo' tha last time, our crazy asses have warnin dat Lilith is close.  
  
**DEAN**  
So?  
  
**SAM**  
So... we've gots tha jump on her n' shit. If we know when dat thugged-out biiiatch coming, we know where she- dis be a opportunity.  
  
**DEAN**  
Is you-  
(tryin straight-up hard not ta git mad salty)  
It frustrates me when you say such reckless thangs.  
  
**SAM  
** Well, it frustrates me when you'd rather hide dat fight.  
  
**WAITRESS  
** Cobb salad fo' you, biatch fo' realz. And tha tofu veggie burger fo' you, biatch.  
  
**DEAN  
** Nuff props, biatch.  
(Da waitress leaves; DEAN leans up in close.)  
It aint nuthin but not hiding. It aint nuthin but bein smart. It aint nuthin but pickin yo' battles. This be a funky-ass battle dat we aint locked n loaded ta fight.  
(Dude takes a big-ass bite of his burger n' his wild lil' fuckin eyes widen up in surprise.)  
Oh, mah god. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This is delicious. Tofu is sick!  
  
**WAITRESS  
** (approaching, flustered)  
I be so sorry bout dat bullshit. I gave you tha bacon cheeseburger by mistake.  
(she takes his thugged-out lil' plate away)   
  
SAM scowls.  
  
EXT. TOREADOR MOTEL- DAY  
  
SAM n' DEAN drive up ta a straight-up sleazy-lookin motel n' pull tha fuck into tha parkin lot.  
  
**SAM**  
Dude, dis place charges by tha hour.  
  
**DEAN  
** Yeah, well, tha book say Lilith findz you all up in tha Red Motel yo. Hence, tha uh, hooker inn. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. It aint nuthin but opposite day, remember?  
  
INT. TOREADOR MOTEL- DAY  
  
DEAN drops a funky-ass bag on tha bed n' starts pullin up shit yo. Dude takes all dem lil' small-ass string-tied bags n' places dem round tha room.  
  
**SAM  
** What is you bustin?  
  
**DEAN  
** Couple of hex bags ought ta Lilith-proof tha room.  
  
**SAM  
** So, what, biatch? I be supposed ta just hole up here all night?  
  
**DEAN  
** Thatz exactly what tha fuck you gonna do, aiiight, biatch? And no research. I couldn't give a fuckin shiznit what tha fuck you do- use tha Magic Fingers or peep Casa Erotica on Pay-Per-View.  
(Dude reaches tha fuck into SAM’s bag n' pulls up SAM’s laptop, smiling.)  
  
**SAM  
** Oh, dude, come on.  
  
**DEAN  
** Just call it a lil insurance.   
  
**SAM  
** What is you gonna do?  
  
**DEAN  
** Well, tha pages say dat I spend all dizzle ridin round up in tha Impala. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So I'ma go park her n' shit. Behave yo ass, would yo slick ass, biatch? No homework. Watch some porn.  
  
Dude smiles, pleased wit his dirty ass, n' leaves. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sam fumes.  
  
EXT.- DAY  
  
As DEAN drives away from tha motel, we pan up ta tha neon sign up front. Da word "Toreador" sputtas n' nuff muthafuckin of tha lights burn out. Da remainin lettas spell: RE D  
  
ELSEWHERE, DEAN parks tha IMPALA n' gets up yo. Dude checks tha doors, then strutts away across tha street. Moments later, he looks back ta peep two teenagers attemptin ta break tha fuck into tha hoopty yo. Dude runs towardz dem wild-ass muthafuckas.  
  
**DEAN  
** Yo hommie!  
  
A van careens towardz him; his schmoooove ass can’t git outta tha way up in time, n' it hits his muthafuckin ass yo. Dude is knocked ta tha ground, unconscious.   
  
INT. "RE D MOTEL"- DAY  
  
SAM opens tha door ta reveal CHUCK.  
  
**CHUCK  
** Yo ass wanted ta peep me son?  
  
**SAM  
** Yeah.  
  
Lookin round shiftily, SAM opens tha door wider n' CHUCK entas yo. Dude shuts tha door behind his muthafuckin ass.  
  
**SAM  
** Thanks fo' coming.  
  
**CHUCK  
** Ah, sure.  
  
**SAM  
** Um... I was just wonderin how tha fuck much you know fo' realz. Bout mah dirty ass.  
  
**CHUCK  
** What do you mean?  
  
**SAM  
** Has you done peeped visionz of me when I aint wit Dean?  
  
**CHUCK  
** Oh... Yo ass wanna know if I know bout tha demon blood.  
  
**SAM  
** Yo ass didn't tell Dean.  
  
**CHUCK  
** I didn't even write it tha fuck into tha books. I was afraid it would make you look unsympathetic.  
  
**SAM  
** Unsympathetic?  
  
**CHUCK  
** Yeah, come on, Sam. I mean, suckin blood, biatch? Yo ass gots ta know thatz wrong.  
  
**SAM  
** It scares tha hell outta mah dirty ass. I mean, I feel it inside of mah dirty ass. I... I wish ta god I could stop.  
  
**CHUCK  
** But you keep goin back.  
  
**SAM  
** What chizzle have I got, biatch? If it helps me bust a cap up in Lilith n' stop tha apocalypse-  
  
**CHUCK  
** I thought dat was Deanz thang. Thatz what tha fuck tha angels say, right?  
  
**SAM  
** Dean’s not... he not Dean lately. Ever since he gots outta hell yo. Dude needz help.  
  
**CHUCK  
** So you gots ta carry tha weight?  
  
**SAM  
** Well, he looked up fo' me mah whole game. I can't return tha favor?  
  
**CHUCK  
** Yeah, shizzle you can. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I mean, if thatz what tha fuck dis is.  
  
**SAM  
** What else would it be?  
  
**CHUCK  
** I don't give a gangbangin' fuck. Maybe tha demon blood make you feel stronger, biatch? Mo' up in control?  
  
**SAM  
** No. Thatz not true.  
  
**CHUCK  
** I be sorry, Sam. I know itz a shitty burden- feelin dat all dat shiznit rests on yo' shoulders.  
  
**SAM  
** Do it, biatch? All rest on mah shoulders?  
  
**CHUCK  
** That seems ta be where tha storyz headed.  
  
**SAM  
** Am I phat enough ta stop Lilith tonight?  
  
**CHUCK  
** I don't give a gangbangin' fuck. I aint peeped dat far yet.  
  
EXT. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. STREET- DAY  
  
DEAN wakes slowly, still lyin up in tha middle of tha road. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! A biatch hovers above him; dat freaky freaky biatch has straight-up long danglin earrings shaped like stars.   
  
**WOMAN  
** Oh mah god. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Just take it easy as fuck , you’re gonna be aiiight.  
  
**DEAN  
** (incoherently)  
Stars.  
  
**WOMAN  
** What was that?  
(Dude blinks n' tries ta raise his head.)  
I be soopa-doopa sorry bout dat bullshit. I just didn't peep you, biatch. Is you aiiight?  
(Dude sits up.)  
And sorry about... you know.  
(Bitch indicates a lil' hoe standin nearby.)  
M-My fuckin daughterz goin all up in a thugged-out doctor phase.  
  
**DEAN  
** What is you poppin' off about?  
  
**GIRL  
** Yo ass be all betta now, nahmeean?  
  
We finally peep tha left side of DEAN’s face, which is covered up in pink flowery Band-Aidz yo. Dude looks across tha street n' stares up in horror: Da IMPALA’s back window is shattered.  
  
**DEAN  
** Oh, no...  
  
Dude approaches tha car, fumin yo. Dude catches a glimpse of his dirty ass up in tha side window n' sees tha Band-Aids. Frowning, da perved-out muthafucka slowly peels one off.  
  
CUT TO:  
  
EXT. ROAD- DAY  
  
DEAN drives along, still fumin fo' realz. A tarp covers tha rear window, flappin like tha wingz of a cold-ass lil crow.   
  
INT. CHUCK’S HOME- DAY  
  
CHUCK, carryin a funky-ass forty up in a funky-ass brown bag n' six-pack of cans, unlocks tha door ta his fuckin lil' doggy den n' entas yo. Dude strutts up in slowly n' do not step tha fuck up straight-up surprised ta find DEAN chillin up in his fuckin livin room.  
  
**CHUCK  
** Dean.  
  
**DEAN  
** I take it you knew I'd be here.  
  
**CHUCK  
** Yo ass look shitty.  
  
**DEAN  
** Thatz 'cause I just gots hit by a minivan, Chuck.  
  
**CHUCK  
** Oh.  
  
**DEAN  
** That it, biatch? Every damn thang you write bout me comes true; that’s all you gotta say is "oh"?!  
  
**CHUCK  
** Please don't yell all up in mah face.  
  
**DEAN  
** Why do I git feelin there be a suttin' dat you not spittin some lyrics ta us?  
  
**CHUCK  
** What wouldn’t I be spittin some lyrics ta yo slick ass?  
  
**DEAN  
** How tha fuck you know what tha fuck you know, fo' starters!  
  
**CHUCK  
** I don't give a fuck how tha fuck I know, I just do!  
  
**DEAN  
** Thatz not phat enough cause I gots dem finger-lickin' chickens wit tha siz-auce.   
(Dude shoves CHUCK against tha wall.)  
How tha fuck tha hell is you bustin this?!  
  
**CASTIEL  
** (appearin outta nowhere, as usual)  
Dean, let his ass go! (DEAN releases CHUCK n' turns ta grill CASTIEL.) This playa is ta be protected.  
  
**DEAN  
** Why?  
  
**CASTIEL  
** Dat punk a Prophet of tha Lord.


	4. Act Three

**CHUCK**  
You... Yo ass is Castiel... aren't yo slick ass?  
  
**CASTIEL**  
It aint nuthin but a honor ta hook up you, Chuck. I... admire yo' work.  
  
CASTIEL picks up one of tha books n' starts pagin all up in dat shit.  
  
**DEAN**  
Whoa, whoa, what, biatch? This muthafucka, a prophet, biatch? Come on, he- he's... he practically a Penthouse Forum writer.  
(to CHUCK)  
Did yo dirty ass know bout this?  
  
CHUCK has stumbled over ta his thugged-out armchair; his schmoooove ass cracks open a gangbangin' fresh forty of whisky n' pours his dirty ass some.  
  
**CHUCK**  
I, uh, I might have dreamt bout dat shit.  
  
**DEAN**  
And you didn't tell us?!  
  
**CHUCK**  
Dat shiznit was too preposterous. Not ta mention arrogant. I mean, freestylin yo ass tha fuck into tha rap is one thang yo, but as a prophet, biatch? Thatz like [M. Night](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M._Night_Shyamalan)-level douchiness.  
  
Dude finishes dis tirade n' desperately gulps down tha whisky.  
  
**DEAN**  
(more on tha fuckin' down-lowly, ta CASTIEL)  
This is tha muthafucka whoz ass decides our fate?  
  
**CASTIEL**  
Dude aint decidin anything. Dat punk a grillpiece- a cold-ass lil conduit fo' tha inspired word.  
  
**DEAN**  
Da word, biatch? Da word of god, biatch? What, like tha freshly smoked up new testament?  
  
**CASTIEL**  
One day, these books- they'll be known as tha Winchesta gospel.  
  
**DEAN n' CHUCK (unison)  
** Yo ass gots ta be kiddin mah dirty ass.  
  
**CASTIEL**  
I be not... kiddin you, biatch.  
  
**CHUCK**  
If you'd both please excuse me one minute.  
  
Dude stands, still clutchin tha bottle, n' disappears upstairs.  
  
**DEAN**  
Him, biatch? Fo' realz?  
  
**CASTIEL**  
Yo ass should've peeped Luke.  
  
**DEAN**  
Why'd he git tapped?  
  
**CASTIEL**  
I don't give a fuck how tha fuck prophets is chosen. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da order be reppin high up on tha celestial chain of command.  
  
**DEAN**  
How tha fuck high?  
  
**CASTIEL**  
Very.  
  
**DEAN**  
Well, whatever n' shiznit yo. How tha fuck do we git round this?  
  
**CASTIEL**  
Around what?  
  
**DEAN**  
Da Sam-Lilith ludd connection. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. How tha fuck do we stop it from happening?  
  
**CASTIEL**  
What tha prophet has freestyled can't be unwritten. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. As dat schmoooove muthafucka has peeped it, so it shall come ta pass.  
  
EXT. "RE D MOTEL" - NIGHT  
  
DEAN drives ta tha motel, parks, n' gets outta tha hoopty yo. Dude notices dat tha altered sign now readz as CHUCK’s manuscript predicted. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time yo. Dude shakes his head n' goes ta tha room.  
  
INT. MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT  
  
**DEAN**  
Come on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. We gettin outta here.  
  
**SAM**  
What, biatch? Where?  
  
**DEAN**  
Anywhere, aiiight, biatch? Out of dis motel, outta dis town. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I couldn't give a fuckin shiznit if we gots ta swim, we is gettin out.   
(Dude looks around, confused.)  
Dude, where is all tha hex bags?  
  
**SAM**  
I burned dem wild-ass muthafuckas.  
  
**DEAN**  
Yo ass what, biatch?   
  
**SAM**  
Look, if Lilith is coming, which be a funky-ass big-ass "if"-  
  
**DEAN**  
Fuck dat shit, no, no. It aint nuthin but mo' than a "if." Chuck aint a psycho. Dat punk a prophet.  
  
**SAM**  
What?  
  
**DEAN**  
Cas flossed up, n' apparently Chuck is freestylin tha gospel of us.  
  
**SAM**  
Okay.  
  
**DEAN**  
Okay. Letz git tha hell outta here.  
  
**SAM**  
No.  
  
**DEAN**  
Lilith is gonna slaughta you, biatch.  
  
**SAM**  
Maybe dat biiiiatch will, maybe dat biiiiatch won't.  
  
**DEAN**  
So what, biatch? Yo ass be thinkin you can take her?  
  
**SAM**  
Only one way ta smoke up, Dean, n' I say brang her on.  
  
**DEAN**  
Sam...  
  
**SAM**  
Yo ass be thinkin I be bout ta do it, don't yo slick ass, biatch? Yo ass be thinkin I be bout ta go dark side.  
  
**DEAN**  
Yes muthafucka! Okay, biatch? Yes yes y'all. Da way you've been actin lately, biatch? Da thangs you've been bustin?  
(SAM looks up, startled.)  
Oh, I know yo. How tha fuck you ripped Alastair apart like dat shiznit was nothing, like you was swattin a gangbangin' fly. Cas holla'd at me, aiiight?  
  
**SAM**  
What else did tha pimpin' muthafucka tell yo slick ass?  
  
**DEAN**  
Nothang I don't already know. That you've been rockin yo' psycho crap, n' you've been gettin stronger n' shit. Us playas just don't give a fuck why, n' our phat asses don't give a fuck how.  
  
**SAM**  
It aint nuthin but not what tha fuck you think.  
  
**DEAN**  
Then what tha fuck is it, Sam, biatch? 'Cause I be at a total loss.   
(Dude grabs his bag n' headz fo' tha door yo. Dude stops n' looks back.)  
Is you comin or not?  
  
**SAM**  
No.  
  
DEAN turns back ta tha door, pauses again, then drops tha bag forcefully on a cold-ass lil chair by tha door before leaving.  
  
EXT. "RE D MOTEL" PARKING LOT- NIGHT  
  
DEAN drops coins tha fuck into a soda machine, fumin yo. Dude takes a step back n' looks around.  
  
**DEAN**  
Well, I feel wack bustin all dis bullshit. But... I be fresh outta options. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So. Biiiatch please.I need some help. I be praying, aiiight, biatch? Come on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Please.  
  
**CASTIEL**  
Prayer be a sign of faith. This be a phat thang, Dean.  
  
**DEAN**  
So do dat mean you gonna help me son?  
  
**CASTIEL**  
I aint shizzle what tha fuck I can do.  
  
**DEAN**  
Drag Sam outta here, now, nahmeean, biatch? Before Lilith shows up.  
  
**CASTIEL**  
It aint nuthin but a prophecy. I can't interfere.  
  
**DEAN**  
Yo ass have tested mah crazy ass n' thrown me every last muthafuckin which way fo' realz. And I aint NEVER axed fo' anything. Not a thugged-out damn thang. But now I be asking. I need yo' help. Please.  
  
**CASTIEL**  
What you asking, it's... not within mah juice ta do.  
  
**DEAN**  
Why, biatch? 'Cause itz "divine prophecy"?  
  
**CASTIEL**  
Yes yes y'all.  
  
**DEAN**  
So, what tha fuck- Us playas just supposed ta sit round and, n' wait fo' it ta happen?  
  
**CASTIEL**  
I be sorry as a muthafucka bout dat bullshit.  
  
**DEAN**  
Screw you, biatch. Yo ass n' yo' mission. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Yo crazy-ass Dogg. If you don't help me now, then when tha time comes n' you need mah dirty ass... don't bother knocking.  
  
DEAN brushes past CASTIEL n' begins ta strutt away yo, but da perved-out muthafucka stops at CASTIELz voice.  
  
**CASTIEL**  
Dean. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Dean.  
  
**DEAN**  
What?!  
  
**CASTIEL**  
Yo ass must KNOW why I can't intercede. Prophets is straight-up special. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. They're protected.  
  
**DEAN**  
I git all dis bullshit.  
  
**CASTIEL**  
If anythang threatens a prophet, anythang at all, a archangel will step tha fuck up ta fuck wit dat threat fo' realz. Archangels is fierce. They're absolute. They're heavenz most terrifyin weapon.  
  
**DEAN**  
And these archangels, they tied ta prophets?  
  
**CASTIEL**  
Yes yes y'all.  
  
**DEAN**  
So if a prophet was up in tha same room as a thugged-out demon-  
  
**CASTIEL**  
Then da most thugged-out fearsome wrath of heaven would drizzle down on dat demon. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Just so you understand... why I can't help.  
  
**DEAN**  
Thanks, Cas.  
  
**CASTIEL**  
Dope luck.  
  
INT. CHUCK’S HOUSE- NIGHT  
  
CHUCK is sprawled on his couch when DEAN enters; dis time, CHUCK do look surprised ta peep his muthafuckin ass.  
  
**CHUCK**  
What is you bustin here, biatch? I didn't write all dis bullshit.  
  
**DEAN**  
(manhandlin him)  
Come on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I need you ta come wit mah dirty ass.  
  
**CHUCK**  
What, biatch? Where?  
  
**DEAN**  
To tha motel where Sam is.  
  
**CHUCK**  
Thatz where Lilith is.  
  
**DEAN**  
Yeah, exactly. I need you ta stop her muthafuckin ass.  
  
**CHUCK**  
Is you insane, biatch? Lilith, biatch? I know what tha fuck dat thugged-out biiiatch capable of, Dean. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I freestyled her muthafuckin ass.  
  
**DEAN**  
All right, dig mah dirty ass. Yo ass have a archangel tethered ta you, aiiight, biatch? All you gots ta do is show up n' boom! Lilith gets smoked.  
  
**CHUCK**  
But I-I aint peeped dat yet. Th-the rap-  
  
**DEAN**  
Chuck, you tha only blasted dat I've gots left.  
  
**CHUCK**  
But... I be just a writer.  
  
**DEAN**  
This aint a rap no mo', man. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. This is real! And you up in dat shiznit son! Now, I need you ta git off yo' ass n' fight. Come on, Chuck.  
  
**CHUCK**  
No friggin' way.  
  
**DEAN**  
Okay, well, then, how tha fuck bout dis- I've gots a glock up in mah pocket, n' if you don't come wit me, I be bout ta blow yo' domes out.  
  
**CHUCK**  
I thought you holla'd I was protected by a archangel.  
  
**DEAN**  
Well, bangin-ass exercise. Letz peep whoz ass tha quicker draw is.  
  
INT. MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT  
  
SAM hears a knock all up in tha door n' approaches it slowly yo. Dude turns tha handle carefully, then flings tha door open. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da doorway is empty yo. Dude closes tha door, turns round n' sees:  
  
**LILITH**  
Yo muthafucka, Sam.  
  
**SAM**  
I've been waitin fo' you, biatch.  
  
Her eyes turn white.  
  



	5. Act Four

**LILITH**  
Wherez tha knife, Sam?  
  
**SAM**  
On tha nightstand. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! By tha bed.  
  
LILITH begins struttin toward tha bed, then stops. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch stoops down n' lifts tha rug: beneath it aint nuthin but a Devil’s Trap. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch rolls her eyes n' touches tha edge of it wit a gangbangin' finger; tha mark flares n' burns away. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch standz ta grill SAM.  
  
**LILITH**  
Yo ass is gonna gotta try a shitload harder than all dis bullshit.  
  
**SAM**  
How tha fuck 'bout this?  
  
Dude reaches up a hand n' concentrates; a wind rises n' blows her afro back yo, but dat schmoooove muthafucka has no other effect on her muthafuckin ass.  
  
**LILITH**  
Yo ass is strong. But you not dat strong. Not yet.  
  
**SAM**  
So why don't you throw me round then?  
  
**LILITH**  
Because I can't, n' you know dat shit. Yo ass is immune ta mah charms. Boy it's gettin hot, yes indeed it is. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Seems we at a stalemate.  
  
**SAM**  
Why is you here?  
  
**LILITH**  
To talk.  
  
**SAM**  
(scoffs)  
Yeah, well, I aint interested.  
  
**LILITH**  
Hmm... even if I be offerin ta stand down, biatch? From tha seals... tha apocalypse... all of it?  
  
**SAM**  
Yo ass expect me ta believe that?  
  
**LILITH**  
Honestly, biatch? No. Yo ass was always tha smart-ass one. But itz tha real deal. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. Yo ass can end it, Sam. Right here, n' aint a thugged-out damn thang dat yo' ass can do. I be bout ta stop breakin seals, Lucifer keeps rottin up in his cage fo' realz. All you gotta do is smoke ta mah terms.  
  
**SAM**  
Why would you back down, biatch? Why now?  
  
**LILITH**  
Turns out, I don't survive dis war. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Capped off, right before tha phat part starts.  
  
**SAM**  
What do you want?  
  
**LILITH**  
For it ta go back ta tha way it was. Before I had angels ta deal wit 24/7. Da phat oldschool days, when dat shiznit was all baby blood all tha time.  
  
**SAM**  
And what tha fuck do you want up in return?  
  
**LILITH**  
Yo crazy-ass head on a stick. Dean's, like a muthafucka. Call it a cold-ass lil consolation prize. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So what tha fuck do you say, Sam, biatch? Self-sacrifice is tha Winchesta way, aint it?  
  
**SAM**  
Yo ass straight-up be thinkin I be wack enough ta fall fo' this?  
  
**LILITH**  
I cook up a thugged-out deal, I gotta follow all up in cause I gots dem finger-lickin' chickens wit tha siz-auce. Those is tha rules, n' you know dat shit. Is you straight-up so arrogant dat you would put yo' game before tha livez of six bazillion innocent people, biatch? Maybe itz all dat demon blood pumpin all up in yo' pipes. Man afta mah own ass.  
  
**SAM**  
Yo ass be thinkin I be like yo slick ass, biatch? I aint a god damn thang like you, biatch.  
  
**LILITH**  
Then prove dat shit. Goin once.  
(Bitch turns n' strutts ta tha bed)  
Goin twice.  
  
**SAM**  
Fine.  
  
**LILITH**  
(Bitch turns back.)  
Swell. By tha way, a cold-ass lil contract wit me will take mo' than a kiss.  
(Bitch sits on tha bed.)  
A lot mo' n' mo' n' mo'. Don't worry. Da dental hygienist up in here, biatch? Biatch wants it bad.  
(Bitch pats tha bed.)  
  
SAM approaches; LILITH runs a hand up his fuckin leg as her eyes turn white. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch takes his ass by tha collar n' pulls his ass down on top of her n' shit. When he gets close enough, he grabs tha knife n' tries ta stab her wit dat shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch countas his thugged-out battle n' flips his ass over, grabbin tha knife. Before dat thugged-out biiiatch can attack, tha door bursts open n' DEAN n' CHUCK enter.  
  
**CHUCK**  
I be tha prophet Chuck!  
  
**LILITH**  
You've gots ta be clownin.  
  
Bitch leaves SAM n' approaches CHUCK.  
  
**DEAN**  
Oh, dis is no joke.  
(Da room begins ta tremble, n' a pimped out white light pours up in all up in tha windows. This buildz over tha following.)  
Yo ass see, Chuck herez gots a archangel on his shoulder n' shit. You've gots bout 10 secondz before dis room is full of wrath n' you a piece of charcoal. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. Yo ass shizzle you wanna tangle wit that?  
  
LILITH gives SAM one last look, then pours beatboxin outta her vesselz grill.


	6. Act Five

EXT. ROAD- NIGHT  
  
DEAN is driving, SAM is up in tha passengerz seat. Da rear window is still busted, still clumsily covered up in a tarp flappin up in tha wind.  
  
**DEAN**  
So a thugged-out deal, huh?  
  
**SAM**  
Thatz what tha fuck her big-ass booty holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!   
  
**DEAN**  
To call tha whole thang off- angels, seals, Lucifer rising, tha whole nine?  
  
**SAM**  
That was tha gist of dat shit.  
  
**DEAN**  
Huh.  
  
**SAM**  
What?  
  
**DEAN**  
Yo ass didn't be thinkin once bout takin it?  
  
**SAM**  
Yo ass kiddin me son, biatch? Dude, you dropped all dizzle tryin ta rap me off tha Lilith track.  
  
**DEAN**  
I be just saying...  
  
**SAM**  
Bitch would have found some way ta weasel outta it fo' realz. And all it would have cost our asses was our lives.  
  
**DEAN**  
Yeah, I guess you right.  
  
**SAM**  
Anyway, thatz not tha point.  
  
**DEAN**  
Whatz tha point?  
  
**SAM**  
Da point is, she trippin like a muthafucka. I could peep dat shit. Lilith is hustlin.  
  
**DEAN**  
Hustlin from what?  
  
**SAM**  
Don't know. But dat biiiiatch was spittin some lyrics ta tha real deal bout one thang.  
  
**DEAN**  
Whatz that?  
  
**SAM**  
Dat hoe not gonna survive tha apocalypse. I be bout ta make shizzle of all dis bullshit.  
  
INT. CHUCK’S HOUSE - NIGHT  
  
CHUCK be asleep on tha couch, havin another dream. Us dudes don't peep what tha fuck da perved-out muthafucka seein yo. Dude wakes suddenly, violently.  
  
**ZACHARIAH**  
Did yo dirty ass peep it?  
  
**CHUCK**  
Dum diddy-dum, here I come biaaatch! Who tha fuck is yo slick ass?  
  
**ZACHARIAH**  
I be Zachariah. Yo ass may know me from yo' work.   
  
**CHUCK**  
What do you want?  
  
**ZACHARIAH**  
Did yo dirty ass peep it?  
  
**CHUCK**  
(he nods)  
Is it true, biatch? Is all of that... straight-up goin ta happen?  
  
**ZACHARIAH**  
Has you done been wack so far?  
  
**CHUCK**  
(gettin up n' headin fo' a thugged-out door)  
I've gots ta warn Sam n' Dean.  
  
**ZACHARIAH**  
I wouldn't advise dat shit. Muthafuckas shouldn't know too much bout they own destiny. Yo ass try... n' I be bout ta stop you, biatch.  
(CHUCK stops; then starts goin off up in another direction)   
Where is you going?  
  
**CHUCK**  
To go bust a cap up in mah dirty ass.  
  
**ZACHARIAH**  
Don't be melodramatic, Chuck. We'd only brang you back ta game.  
  
**CHUCK**  
What is I supposed ta do?  
  
**ZACHARIAH**  
What you always do. Write.


End file.
